


The Kalmar Union

by Natileroxs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All the Nordics need more love, Angst, Denmark is the sweetest cinnamon roll, Denmark needs more love, M/M, Norway needs more love, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natileroxs/pseuds/Natileroxs
Summary: Shattered hearts are still mending from that one night.(I wrote this for my creative writing, I really liked it and so I posted it)





	The Kalmar Union

His eyes, glittering. His smile, wide. But under this mask was a complex array of emotion, spanning from deep depression to raging anger. All of this, balled up and cleverly hidden behind a facade of joy and stupidity. Around him, hurtful words were thrown, as if everyone was blind. Ignorant. While I alone saw the truth. 

 

A curse. 

 

It hurt. More than I’d imagined. More than I’d care to admit. He was so broken, shattered pieces of a person. Yet, he had pieced himself back together for me, for them. How they couldn’t see it was beyond me. They ridicule him as if they’d been handed permission on a silver platter. As if his sparkling blue eyes were a symbol of innocence that they just needed to crush with hateful remarks. Each snark a stab to his chest. 

 

I wished for him to break down, lose it. I wished for him to show his feelings. Just so everyone could see the pain. I knew it wasn’t just in my mind. But I don’t think he ever will. He was too stubborn, cared too much. A part of me was relieved for that. 

 

I guess they wouldn’t understand at all. To them, he is an ignorant fool. Someone to step on. They left him after all. Maybe not on purpose but they still did. And haven’t apologized. I was the only one who truly never wanted to leave, dragged away screaming and kicking and clawing at the walls. I wonder if the marks are still there, on the doorway where I clung to the one place I had always called home. 

 

I couldn’t scream anymore. My vocal cords almost severed. So fragile. Any day now they’ll snap and I will be unable to voice my opinion. As if God has punished me for my loyalty to him. As if I wasn’t worthy of words. 

 

My voice, monotone and flat. I could never think up the right words to say. Anything I tried to say came out sarcastic or fake. I was a shell, crying on the inside, blank on the outside. My right to emotion had been taken away. His right to cry was as well. 

 

I couldn’t speak my mind. I was stuck. Forever. I couldn’t even say the words, “ _ jeg elsker deg _ _ ,” _

 

It truly broke my heart. The both of us pay. So many consequences for one petty mistake. For one little disagreement that slowly evolved into worse and worse fights until everyone finally snapped. I remember the night well. Covering little brother’s ears while Mama Fin and Papa Sve packed their bags and left. He never backed down. . His hair sticking up like devil horns. Papa and his glares crossing, auras clashing against each other. Mama standing by the door, tears streaming down and dripping on the ground. We all cried that night. Even Papa had glassy eyes. He was there, screaming at them to stay. But they didn’t listen, gone by the morning.

 

They never listened. Not anymore. 

I couldn’t speak to him. I didn’t want to speak to them. To Mama and Papa who left, or little brother who distanced himself from all of us. We are a broken family. And there was no glue that could bring us together. No sun shining between the black clouds. We are so far apart, me and him. And I hated it.

 

It wasn’t fair. It was so long ago and yet he still blamed himself. And they let him. As if they’d forgotten how much it ate at him that they’d left because of him. That he’d pushed them away. The only way he was accepted in the family was a drunken oaf who danced the night away in a beer induced haze. It was as if people forgot that we were people, who held emotions and hearts which were breakable. 

  
  


I don’t think it’ll ever be fair. It feels as if we’ll be stuck in these roles forever. The joy-filled Dane and the emotionless Norwegian. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a school assessment so I had to keep it under 1000 words. I actually got a really good grade for this though. I love creative writing, I use it as an excuse to write fanfiction
> 
> I have no idea what possessed me to write this. It really hurts me. But I do like the idea of all five of them having a lot of heavy baggage and hurting deep inside. I just want them to talk about their feelings. I might write a couple more of these for all the other Nordics and their positions. 
> 
> To be honest, I don't believe that any of the Nordics hate Denmark, not even Sweden. This is just from Norway's point of view.


End file.
